As most of us know, there’s little more that I enjoy than making fun of myself. Fortunately/unfortunately for me, I have made many poor decisions in the past and, as a result, have found myself in many situations that are funny now (not so much then).

A lot of people don’t really know this about me, but I get these sudden, sporadic thoughts. It can be something I remember that I need/want to do or a good blog post idea, a good rhyme, an old memory or a good recipe I would like to try and make. Because of this, I have note pads and pens everywhere since the thought leaves my brain as quickly as it arrived.


If you’re ever in my car, the driver and passenger side doors both have a notepad in a small recess I use for storage. The center console holds a few pens. There are note pads all around my apartment too. I know it’s a little odd, but my random creativity comes from all that noise and I use that system to channel it.

Are you kidding me? Chicks love that. They find it sexy.


Anyway, I was driving home from work and for some reason an old memory came to mind. It was such an embarrassing memory that I had to share it. I’m usually not that gullible or easily swayed, but I guess I have always been open minded.

Many, many years ago I was speaking with a close friend of mine. We were changing as we were about to head out somewhere. I realized that my friend was wearing men’s bikini briefs.


I remember laughing hysterically at him and his “manties”. To me they looked uncomfortable, restrictive and well, feminine. With his usual stoic look my friends tells says “Are you kidding me? Chicks love that. They find it sexy.”

In all fairness, at that time I don’t remember if I was still in:
tightie whities


boxers or


boxer briefs (Yes, that was actually the correct order of my underwear progression).


I remember shaking my head in disbelief at the bizarre looking, female-looking, speedo-resembling underwear and going along my way. It was beyond me why a guy would wear that. Still, there was this nagging thought going through my head. This particular friend of mine was pretty popular with the ladies. Maybe he was on to something? No, it couldn’t be. Maybe? Well, what could it hurt, right? No, those things nothing more than panties in dark colors and bigger sizes.

Still, one day I went to the store to make a purchase and I gravitated towards the underwear section. I lied to myself as I looked through the “normal” underwear and wound up in the mantee section. Could this be attractive? Am I missing the boat here? These things seemed horrid. They came in all type of weird patterns and colors as though it were inspired by a garish carnival. There were some that were packaged within a plastic cylinder and had solid colors so I grabbed the pack and got in line.

I felt mortified holding these things in my hand.I stood in shame for what seemed to be an eternity holding a pack of mantees. I felt so emasculated I may as well have been ovulating. I hoped nobody around me knew what the plastic cylinder contained. I finally reached to pay and, with shame, placed the item on the counter and paid. I wondered if the cashier thought I was a low class stripper.


Once I arrived home, I finally had the courage to try one of these contraptions on. Just as I suspected, it was tight, constrictive and uncomfortable. I felt like I was cross dressing.

The mantees sat in my drawer for a long time as I gathered the courage to try them on. One day I was going to spend some time with a female friend of mine whom I was spending a lot of naked time with.

I gathered the courage to try on a pair of the mantees and went about my business. When we were finally alone and I began to disrobe, I released the mantees in their full glory. My friend looked at my quizzically and with a smile on her face said “what the fuck are those?” She laughed. “Don’t wear that, they look like panties. Are those mine?” Mortified I removed them and when my friend left, I discarded the rest. An argument could be had that I could have donated them, but unless there were homeless strippers, I couldn’t have.

From that day forward I learned an important lesson in life and seduction. Mantees are never OK unless you’re a professional swimmer or in the WWE. Being as to how I was neither, I went back with whatever the traditional one I was wearing was.


It was one of many failed experiments to impress the ladies. Of course there were many successful ones, but the failures are far funnier.

Before, you ask, these days I have evolved into 80% boxer briefs, 10% boxers and 10% nothing. I’ve gone back to the basics.


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